


Half-Smile

by Arisusan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, cody has 0 social skills, obi-wan loses his lightsabre, weird conversations had too late at night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 16:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9829991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisusan/pseuds/Arisusan
Summary: A few scraps of scenes from a battle taking place some time after Christophisis. Obi-Wan never knows when to stop, Cody doesn't either, and every conversation they have is hampered by an inability for the former to speak straight and the latter to read through 3 layers of pretentious metaphors and bad jokes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a) I didn't know where I was going with this, but this wasn't it  
> b) I should probably point out that it's not very romantic, but you could definitely read it as such  
> c) my canadian spelling has me wanting to go lightsaber/lightsabre interchangeably, so i've stuck with the latter  
> d) kind of a follow-up to The New General, kind of not

It was in the middle of a skirmish-turned-battle that Cody found himself in possession of the General's lightsabre. It had flown out of his hand during the fight, but the man had been too intent on beating a droid to pick it up — and, of course, it was Cody's job to clean up the mess.

The General had a calm and collected demeanour, and Cody could say he'd been fooled into thinking he would be as careful and conservative as General Unduli on the battlefield.

Key word: "fooled."

That had been in the cool, darkened rooms of the Coruscant barracks.

Now, the General was somewhere in the piles of debris and clouds of smoke, and Cody was wondering if it was possible to accidentally activate a lightsabre. It was hanging on his belt, on an empty ammo clip, so if it decided to turn on, he'd be looking at a nasty gash, if not a rushed amputation. They could go on at the click of a button—

Years of battle training made him recognize the faint beeping of a detonator in the soundscape, sending him diving and rolling for cover. The ground and his armour were hard enough to snap his neck, but he'd learned to keep the roll on his shoulder instead of his back, absorbing the shock into his movement.

Even so, the smoke from blast would make it harder to find his way back to Kenobi.

With the lightsabre safely clipped, Cody found cover in a thin stand of trees, and surveyed the battle. This area of the planet was mostly grassland and parkland, dried out and burnt by blaster fire. The advance squadron of the 212th had spread out — Waxer and Boil led their respective sections on the flank, funnelling the droid forces towards the empty riverbed some clicks ahead, while Cody and the General took the middle. Or had taken the middle, until the Seppies had set off some massive series of explosives, just a few minutes past.

The clankers manning the tanks seemed finally to have locked on, with a heavy cannon bolt sending Cody back into the fray, ducking down to hide in the dust clouds.

Now was not the time to panic. Yes — the General was a standing, leaping, somersaulting duck, wherever he was, and the front ranks had collapsed, but panicking now assumed it couldn't get worse.

Besides, he trusted his lieutenants, for all that they bickered with each other. Somehow, they both seemed to understand what the other was doing at any given time, and what needed to be done. Very, very useful when the dust was thick in the air and the comm lines were jammed.

Cody worked forward slowly, sticking to patches of cover, waiting for the rest of the troops to catch up with him and the General — it shouldn't take too long. Until then, Waxer and Boil could handle themselves.

Some sets of brothers were like that. Even closer than owns. There wasn't even a clone term for it, but to Cody it felt something like the Force the Jedi used. Something that ran deeper than just shared genetics or shared experiences.

He'd started to feel something like it with Rex, but they'd been separated too often lately for him to really have a grip on it. For now, own was what he'd have to use.

Suddenly, a stinging pain flashed through him. Blaster bolt, near the edge of an armour plate. Kriff's _sake—_

It spread, too, weighing him down, making his movements hesitant, uneven. The only reason he was still alive was because of the haze — and because the General needed his weapon back.

He was out of ideas.

He missed Rex.

But — and here he clamped down on the thoughts, letting training take over — that wasn't of concern right now. The 501st was on its way with reinforcements, but for now and for a few days the 212th was alone.

Without a General, it wouldn't be efficient for too much longer.

The tell-tale thunder of boots on the ground, working its way up through his joints, told him that the rest of the centre guard were here. Thank Force.

Cody launched himself forward, still searching for Kenobi and the distinctive glare of the lightsabre, when he checked himself. Stupid! The lightsabre was here, with him — the General was elsewhere.

"Don't risk random fire!" he shouted, signalling the instructions with the clone hand-signs, "Targeted shooting and droid poppers only, until I give the word."

He could practically sense the grumbling from the men, and tightened his grip on the blaster. Signalling a few troopers, Cody pushed forward, sticking to the taller clumps of grass and few trees or rocks, trying to spot the company's NCOs and specialized units. Without comm lines, this was going to be a hell of a lot harder.

"Dell! Get the wounded back behind our lines. Turner! Cover him."

He kept running. The clone with the stylized blades of grass painted on his helmet, and one with heavily modified armour watching for enemies, moved in sync. Most days a brother could pick another out of a crowd by his movements, but sometimes the painted signs helped.

An explosion ahead caught Cody's eye — there — the General was holding his own with a blaster, but his face and awkward stance marked him as a Jedi.

"Brine!" Cody turned to the trooper at his left. "Find somewhere clear of interference, and tell Boil to fall back in with the General's squad. They're going to need it!"

"Sir! Do you need cover?"

"Thank you, but I'll get Opt to do that. Just get the message to Boil."

"Yessir!"

Without stopping to take on the approaching wave, Cody held his blaster up, driving through a couple of staggering battle droids. Their eye sensors were more sensitive to light than colour, so the firing and the dust distracted them. They aimed more at the lasers than the clones.

These lines were holding, but up ahead, the General was more or less alone. The clones he'd been covering had retreated, according to protocol, but he hadn't — instead, he seemed to have taken out a tank, using it for cover. Typical Jedi. Didn't even have his lightsabre.

"Opt!" he called, signalling the clone to his right. "I'm going to need some cover."

"Yes, Captain."

Opt stuck by him as he peeled off to the side, leaving the rest of the men to take the droids head-on.

"I'm going in to get the Jedi."

Cody didn't pause to look around — Opt was a crack shot; he'd know the best location to set up camp when they got close.

"But sir!"

"But what?"

"He can handle himself."

Cody rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge that no one would see. Opt was a good soldier, but a special one.

"Not without his lightsabre he can't!"

He thought Opt mumbled something in reply, but it wasn't important.

Now, they far were out in front of the lines, zigzagging their way through. They'd been trained for this.

1\. Kill the biggest droid you can.

A handful of B-1s would have to do, for now. They went down like train before a scythe.

2\. Use the shell for cover.

Crouching as they fell, Cody let loose a few rounds, counting on the visual interference as optic cables saw both droid and clone in one.

3\. Shoot up to confuse the smaller ones, then tear through them.

Simple enough. The Separatist lines were thin here, thanks to the General.

4\. Hope that Opt can still shoot like he did last time.

Before Cody could react to the creak of metal, the droid running in from 8 o'clock went down. Then the one from 2 — yes, Opt still deserved the crosshairs on his shoulder.

Finally, break through to the General—

"General! Catch!"

Throw the lightsabre, and skid to a halt back-to-back with the Jedi.

5\. Achieve the objective.

"Thank you, Cody!"

He skidded to a halt at the General's side, once the man had taken care of the droids surrounding him. For some reason, he was grinning — not just the odd half-smile he wore like a bucket, but a broad one. He hefted the sabre, as if relishing the feel of it in his hand.

 _"So_ much better than a blaster, if you'll pardon me."

Cody could only nod in reply, before hoisting his blaster to his shoulder.

Time for Rex's addition: 6. Get the kriff out of there.

The lines of shorthand ran through Cody's mind, and he signalled a retreat back into their lines. Even a Jedi would have to be tired, after all this; this one was human, after all.

"No — Captain, I'm afraid I have more work to do. Can you handle the troops?"

Damn Jedi.

"Of course, sir."

"Very well."

Time to go.

Cover the General as he rips into enemy lines. Get Opt on the now-blinking (thank you, Wires) comlink and tell him to regroup, and cover the wounded. Wait for Boil's reinforcements. Take command from him and Waxer. Leave them to their one-sided arguing. Berate the General when he finally rejoins the group, looking far too fresh for someone just out of a firefight.

"Sir." Cody stepped forward, turned halfway between the troops and the General, leaning in to be heard. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Permission granted," gasped the General, too out of breath to say much more.

"One Jedi is worth a hundred clones. If you lose your lightsabre again, we'll all be in trouble."

It was improper, but Cody's sheer fatigue made it hard to mince words. Kenobi's stunt could have gotten more than a few good men killed, for a moment's lack of foresight. Jedi were supposed to be better than this!

"I can't argue with that logic, Captain," Kenobi answered, after a brief pause, "A Jedi is no more, and no less valuable than a clone."

"You are to the Republic," Cody said shortly.

"I'll argue about that later, Cody."

"I have no doubt you will, sir."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, as the troops around them started to march forward. He was slowly picking up the crisp sounds of a Coruscanti accent.

…

Cody knocked three times on the General's door. As usual, a sly answer came back.

"It's open, Cody. It usually is, if you ever want to drop by."

"Sir."

Once he was inside the small room — the _Negotiator's_ quarters were bare even compared to the central barracks — Cody stood straight, arms folded behind his back, at ease. Not that there was much room to do so.

"General. Captain Rex just contacted me with news."

"Very well, Cody, you my go ahead."

"Yes, sir. General Skywalker and Commander Tano are cleaning up the last few wounded, and should be done within a few clicks. The Separatist base is empty. All combat droids have fled or been destroyed, and tactical droids have self-destructed."

There was nothing extraordinary in the news — just a rote read-off of the situation, so the General was better prepared to give the 212th's next order.

For some reason, though, Cody noticed he was smiling. He smiled often. Still, he had no reason to be, unlike Cody — Kenobi hadn't heard Rex's tired voice on the other end of the holo, or seen him flash a grin when he mentioned the trouble his Jedi had gotten into today.

So here Cody was, still with the warm afterglow in his chest of seeing an old friend after too many rotations, watching Kenobi's eyes start to crinkle at the edges as he scribbled down the notes. No — it could have been just a squint, or the same old half-smile.

"Wonderful."

The General's voice was quiet, coming from far away. No — it was at a moderate volume, and it was Cody who could only nod in reply.

"That should make our job far easier," Kenobi continued, "If Anakin's been paying attention — is there anything else, Captain?"

Cody shook his head, speaking automatically as his breath froze in his lungs. "Not from Rex. General Skywalker will probably contact you soon."

"Thank you, Cody."

What was that look? The smile that wasn't a smile, and the body language that all Cody's CC courses hadn't covered. The eyes that met his—

"…but I was asking _you_."

The words touched Cody gently, then spiralled in to shock his core.

The General had turned his chair around to face him, in what little room there was between them, and wasn't just soot and dust that made his eyes look sunken — he was tired, and his words came slowly.

He did not look away.

"It's — there's nothing, sir," Cody murmured.

"Very well."

The silence that descended was not uncomfortable.

"Is there anything you need me to tell the men?" Cody found himself saying, words bubbling up to try and make something change in this stillness. "We're treating the wounded and compiling data at the moment, but if you need any assistance…"

Then, he let the words trail off, wondering if he should not have broken the moment.

It was almost tempting to let it stay there. Nothing to explain, or be explained.

No. He was getting to used to this informality. He was a Captain. He followed protocol.

He paid attention to his superior officer.

The General looked sad. Turning in on himself, like Cody had see Rex do after a training mission gone wrong.

He was sad, then, though the losses had been minimal. It was just Kin and Buzz, and Rake, and Ergo, and Dam, Wary, Halo, Gorse.

They'd been good brothers. Cody knew them. He'd shed tears. Even now, he felt them weighing down on him. But the clones were trained for this as well — he'd write their names down, pin their last letters up on the bulletin board, and be happy that they went without regrets. Everything a brother ever wanted to say but couldn't, he wrote down, to keep things from getting messy.

Did the General know that?

Cody didn't say anything. Each emotion that drifted past was as difficult to grasp as the last. Why? Why he paying attention to that? Why did he wonder what the General was thinking? Why did the General _look at him like that?_

Almost—

"Cody, you know General Skywalker was my former padawan."

"Yes, sir."

—almost like he looked at Rex.

Kenobi stood up. His eyes never left Cody's.

"He was a handful. When I gave him his lightsabre, I told him it was his life. It's a lesson my Master handed down to me, and that he has handed down to his own padawan."

Cody felt that this was not the right time to say something.

"It's true, you know. A Jedi with a blaster has little more skill than a clone…"

As he said it, Kenobi winced at his own words.

"No — I'm sorry, Cody, that was cruel."

"No offence taken, sir."

"What I mean is —"

And here, a hand rested lightly on his shoulder as Kenobi's smile stretched thin.

"Thank you, Cody."

The frantic search for something good to say.

"You said, sir."

Kenobi chuckled. "Very good, Cody. You might learn humour yet."

So, mild insults were acceptable for this particular situation. He'd have to remember that.

"Not if you have anything to do with it, sir."

That said, the protective layer of rules and protocol around Cody's mind had thinned too much. Even in the middle of the night, with a talkative General.

"Ve-ry funny."

Kenobi had stepped back, arms crossed in their usual position as he grinned.

"Thank you, sir," Cody replied, genuinely.

Rex would roll his eyes, after so long with Skywalker and Tano, but he really was happy to have made it this far through the conversational minefield.

Suddenly, though, the sad smile came across the General's face again.

"Cody, do you ever wonder what you would do, if there was no war?"

…and just when he thought he'd gotten the hang of it, Obi-Wan pulled out some new weapon, slim and polished from his infinite inventory, to dig at Cody's heart.

I don't know, he almost answered truthfully. "Sometimes, sir."

This seemed to cheer him up, if that was the word — at least, he now glanced away, talking more to himself than anyone else.

"I do, too."

And now, the General who never shut up seemed to be at a loss for words, settling instead for Cody's favourite standby: the business of running an army. It was all they should have been talking about, a Jedi and a clone.

"I imagine your troops will be needing some direction, now."

Cody almost wanted this to continue, even though he scrabbled now for something to say.

"They're good men, General. They'll be fine on their own."

"Unlike me, I guess."

Kenobi chuckled as he said it, but did not meet his eyes.

Then, he did, and smiled that odd half-smile again.

"Good night, Cody."

Cody nodded.

"Good night, sir."

**Author's Note:**

> e) in case that last conversation seemed very vague, Obi-wan is trying to make friends with Cody and tell him he trusts him, but also give him the choice of whether or not he wants it. Cody is completely oblivious to this and is mostly trying to understand what the heck Obi-wan's saying. In the end, Obi-Wan misinterprets Cody's awkwardness as not wanting to be there, and Cody doesn't even understand enough to misinterpret.


End file.
